Crystal Tears
by LepidusLacrimae
Summary: A story on Harry Potter and the hardships he faces and how he manages to work past them and find something better in life. HPSS - Slash, Child neglect, abuse, torture, possible rape, eventually explicit. Intense things. Please do not read if any of these things offend you or make you feel uncomfortable.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not have the magic neccesarry to take J.K. Rowling's form, so I fear that this countinues to be a fan made work.**

 **Authour's note: Thank you so much for trying out this fiction! This is my first fiction so if you find any spelling or formatting mistakes please tell me. Thanks for trying this fiction even though it is in progress!**

 **Please favourite and review**

 **Sometime in the future**

The boy is perfect. He was beginning to materialize, specks of dust coming together in the dim light of the empty. My breath caught as I watched the specks connect till a boy lay there, long black hair, silky yet not oily, hung in waves around his face, framing his smooth skin like the sun. His eyelashes were thick and outrageously long for a male, and I was desperate to see the flaming emeralds which I wanted so desperately to put out, mute the flame, turn it to ash. His lips are full, a thin top lip with a delightful curve at the centre that led to a full bottom lip, giving him the expression of pouting. His jawline was sharp and narrow, not squared off as in a more mature masculine way. His neck was long and thin, smooth pale skin covering his flesh with an occasional streak of a grey red that I dream of making that blazing red I see in his memories. My jaw hurts momentary as I stretch my lips upward to surprise him properly and place my thumb and index finger together. It's silly to keep the silence when I have such a lovely body lying before me.

I snap my fingers.

A brilliant streak of green surround a mass of black.

"Good morning love."

Screams pierce the air.

The green thins and the black takes over.

* * *

"BOY!"

Eyes snap open, his breath catching suddenly with an onslaught of unnamed emotion. The door, if it could be called that with its petite size, was slammed open by a very large, very unstable blob. It took a moment, but as your eyes became accustomed, or I should say so overwhelmed that they were forced to move on, to the large amounts of flesh that shuddered with every breath and movement of the being, your eyes were able to wander to the top of the round ball of flesh, which narrowed slightly like the tip of an egg and revealed small slits in the flesh, one for the lips, two for the nostrils, and two for the eyes. Each were surrounded by a bit of colour to mark their existence, and all seemed to be melting inward to the flesh, as if the entire face was slowly caving inward. The nose, which didn't at all seem like a nose, was really just two slits, pulsing with the heavy breath that signified the being's anger. The eyes seemed closed in with the bags of flesh that caved over the slit every moment. Finally, if you were able to get past this rather repulsive description of this reality, you would find a slab of dull red hair, its colour matching the skin tone of the flesh, combed and gelled to a blunt point at the front as if this being cared for its appearance.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT UP! PETTY WANTS TO EAT!"

The roar of the voice shook the house, most assuredly waking the neighbors, thought they would never know it was a human who uttered these words at the sheer volume and mispronunciation.

The boy leapt up, his tiny frame, as petite portrays naturality, and his size was definitely not natural, regardless of his age, trembling in surprise and fear at facing the rumbling of the beast. He had long dark hair, a colour that resembled the night sky as it tinted blue in certain lights. He was unbearably pale, even when not compared to the flesh yelling in front of him, and any observer regardless of their psychological state would immediately realize there was something wrong for a child to be tinted such a colour and not be facing an addiction. His face was thin, his neck a stick that led to a slightly thicker twig, then splitting into sections that were as thick as the stick that was a neck again. His face, a sickly narrow shape, was grey tinted as if it never faced the sunlight.

The child's eyes, were, simply put, remarkable. The emerald colour was so variant, it almost stole the observer's eyes from noticing his sickliness. The pupils were large and expanded, showing the child's fear, and the eyelids were stretched open to take in the blob's body. The eyes seemed massive in the child's small face, and would still seem large if the child was matured properly. The eyes were framed by delicate eyelashes, that fluttered slightly with every blink by their sheer length. From there, you would find a small rounded nose, with a long bridge that caused the face shape to seem further stretched out and thin. Small, flushed, lips had a defined cupid's bow and a large curve for the bottom. The child, was fairly put, beautiful, regardless of his frailty and sickliness.

The child, when finally digesting the butchering of the english language that came from the being in front of him, burst out the triangular door of the cupboard, that slanted as the stairs rose. He was in such a rush, that he did not notice the slab of flesh that stuck out from the doorway on the left hand side of the hall, which resulted in the boy falling forward on his face.

A hushed giggle, well hushed for the blob's brood, was heard from the other side of the flesh.

"BOY!"

The child immediately jumped back up and ran onward at the rumble.

The end of the hall opened up to a kitchen painted a sickly baby blue with white trim and granite counters. The walls had pink floral details surrounding the trim that looking without closer inspection like a child's, or I should say one of the blobs that were kept in this house, vomit. The boy burst through the door and immediately ran toward the stove. There was already a pan resting on top, so he turned the stove on and took a package of bacon from the fridge, frying the entire thing, regardless of the small number of inhabitants in the house. He followed the bacon with eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee and orange juice, with milk, tea, and chocolate milk on hand in case one of the feeders became picky. He then set the table and hurried back to his cupboard, sitting inside and shutting the door so it left a crack but still appeared to be fully shut so he would not get in trouble. The shaking of the staircase above the boy was heard and felt and the boy compacted himself into the corner at the rumble as if fearing the stairs would collapse onto him.

When the noise from the kitchen was silent, and the television on, the boy snuck out of the cupboard and tiptoed his way toward the kitchen where he began to clean the disastrous mess left by the animals that lived there. He noticed that Dudley, the blob named Vernon's brood, had left some crusts, so, after looking each direction and being sure that no one was coming, he stuffed his mouth full of the dry bread and swallowed without fully chewing out of fear of one the beings finding him. After cleaning, he looked towards the ridiculously long list of chores that were pinned to the side of the cabinet and the boy knew he would not be eating dinner that night because of the impossibility of a human being able to finish so many chores in only one day. The child was suddenly very relieved he managed to sneak those bread crusts a few minutes ago.

And thus, the boy began his long, tedious, but normal to his standards, day.

s...s

Later that day, when the sun was past setting and the sky was drifting from a grey to a dark black, the boy, who was painting the already spotless white picket fence that surrounded the house, heard a shout from the horse faced lady who for some absurd reason married the blob of flesh previously mentioned, calling for the boy to come in. The child let out a sigh, knowing his fate as he turned and walked toward the door surrounded by warm light.

Upon entering, Petunia, her narrow, ugly, horse like face scowling in distaste, said, "Get to the cupboard. Vernon will deal with you later." The boy flinched and hurried to his cupboard. When he was curled in his corner, and the door shut, he began to think on the day and what will await him when the man gets home. He hoped he wasn't drinking, he was always worse when he drunk. Maybe he just stayed late. His sad hopes and reassurances died down and sounded even more pitiful when the sound of the front door slamming open shook the house.

"Vernon, dear, how abou-"

"BOY!"

The child compacted himself further into the corner at the rumble of the voice, he slowly rocked himself and squeezed his eyes shut as if closing off the the outside world.

"Get out here boy!"

His rocking became more urgent, his body trembling.

And then, the door slammed open.

"Obey me boy!"

The child let out a gasp, his eyes opening, knowing he won't be able to hide from his fate but trying none the less.

"Please Uncle Vernon! I promise i'l-"

The blob let out a roar, interrupting the child's whimpering, and grasped his chubby hands into the cupboard to grab at the child. For a moment, it seemed that the child was safe, the hands won't reach him. But then they managed to fist his shirt and he was dragged out of the cupboard, his forehead slamming into the top of the doorway in the rush.

Vernon held the boy in front of his face, so he was hanging by the fist that held him by the collar, his thin legs dangling in the air.

"DID YOU FINISH!?" his voice boomed

"Please Uncle Vernon, I did 78 please Uncle Ver-"

"78! I gave you 83! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD! LITTLE BITCH!" The yells continued as he dropped the child to the floor so he landed in a heap, his leg twisted oddly. The blob began to kick him, his yells continuing.

"YOU, YOUR MOTHER, YOUR FATHER, GOOD FOR NOTHING. FREAKS!" Tears gurgled down the child's face, collecting in the pool of blood on the floor, as he passed out with that final word.

* * *

 **March 1991** , Harry's eleventh year of existence out of the womb. To clear up any misunderstandings.

The boy awoke with a jerk, his head throbbing unpleasantly with the numb ache drifting through his body. There were no yells, no running footsteps that shook the house, just the slight rumble from Vernon's snores upstairs. The child relaxed momentarily, obviously relieved that he awoke earlier than they have. His body tensed again, however, when he remembered the horrific dream that caused such a thing to happen.

He shook his head, the knots that make up his shoulder length hair shaking around him with the motion, and carefully attempted to kneel, fighting against his trembling body. Just as he managed to get in a kneeling position and slide the first bit forward, he was hit with a dizzy spell, his vision shaking and blurring more than it is naturally, and fell to the side, his head making painful contact with the floor in the process.

His breath caught, his eyes squeezed shut in a desperate prayer that he didn't wake up the creatures up the stairs. He counted to 100, picturing each number at the front of his mind, and then slowly shifted upwards when hearing the silence.

The door, which is locked nightly and, well most every other time as well, just as long as the boy is inside, was, well, locked. The boy was obviously aware of this, he has lived here for ten years after all, and he carefully slid his finger between two boards in the floor and shifted one up slightly. When it opened up enough for his hand to squeeze through, he slithered his hand in, pulling out a thin chopstick. He then slid the stick through the crack within the door, thankful that the lock was so old fashioned, and slid it upward after twisting his hand complicatedly. After a couple attempts, the sound of the metal hitting the wood of the door was heard and the boy let out a sigh of relief.

The boy then pushed the door open in an extremely measured way, and continued to do so until the door was open enough for the child to slide through. The boy, upon being within the hallway, took meticulous, and obviously painful, as you could see from his limp, steps toward the kitchen, where he began his daily routine of making an extravagant breakfast during which he prayed there would be a crust left at the end to restrain his starvation to a point that he knew would not be death.

An hour later, the boy was in his cupboard, ready to slide out when the clutter of metal against glass and obnoxious chewing died down and the telly turned on. When he was sure this was the state, he did so and tip toed his way down the hallway. Just as he was about to make a dash past the resized, done so for their copious amount of fat, door to the living room, he was interrupted by none other than his, loath as I am to call him, uncle.

"Boy! Get me the paper!"

The child trembled momentarily at his voice, but relaxed slightly when he realized the command was possible. He then turned back toward the door to pick up the scattered letters on the floor. He was doing so, just as usual, when he found a yellowed letter of an obviously rich material parchment. It was sealed with an old fashioned red wax symbol, and upon closer observation the child could see that it was split into four sections, each with a creature. The first, a badger, the second, a lion, the third, a raven, and the fourth, a snake. It was done in such meticulous detail that the boy could not help but stand for a moment in admiration. This did not last long, however, as he remembered his uncle was waiting. Regardless, he could not refrain from flipping the letter to search for why someone as repulsive as his uncle would receive such an elegant letter.

This is where his life took a turn from, regardless of how horrific, the normal to the chaotic.

Scratched out in red ink on the fine parchment, in fancy letters that the boy knew as cursive, were these words.

 _Mr H. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

Now this was very confusing for the boy, as he was not aware of an H. Potter living in this house, but as he processed the second bit, the very particular address, his confusion heightened.

 _I live under the stairs!_

This obviously may sound silly for you, the reader, as of course this boy lives under the stairs, so therefore he must be H. Potter! But you see, this boy, H. Potter, did not realize that it was at all abnormal to live in such a cramped space and be beaten by your Uncle for not finishing you obnoxiously long list of chores, and thus, he figured it was an address mistake.

 _Well, obviously I'm not H. Potter, even though I do live under the stairs and at number 4 Privet Driv_ e (which he learned from the other letters' addresses), i _ndeed, my name is boy._

So, the boy did not think anything was out of the normal.

Obviously he was quite wrong.

"BOY! WHAT IS THIS LETTER!"

The voice from the blob of flesh scattered about the couch cushion was much louder than usual, and so, the boy began to shake.

"Uncle Vernon-on please I-"

"DID YOU OPEN THIS LETTER?!"

This was indeed a silly question as it was still sealed with the beautiful red wax crest, but the boy's uncle did not seem the perceptive sort.

"No-o Uncle Vernon, plea-"

"GET! GET TO THE CUPBOARD!"

And so the boy made a mad dash to the cupboard, falling only once which resulted in yet another blue bruise on his face.

Once curled up in his favourite corner, his arms clutching his legs in the darkness, he began to question what was wrong.

 _It's too early for me to get in trouble for not doing my chores, I don't believe that I messed up breakfast, I didn't sleep in later than usual…_

And his list went on.

With no results.

And thus, he continued his life, but never forgetting that beautiful yellowing parchment, and that intricate seal, and of course, the question never really left:

 _Who was H. Potter?_

Even though the answer remained as obvious as it was at first.

* * *

 **Two months later, June, 1991.** Harry remains 10, for those who are not as knowledgeable in the Harry Potter fandom.

Mid morning from Harry's point of view, early for the Dursleys.

"BOY! GET THE MAIL!"

The child was, however, already on his way, with unaccountable enthusiasm. He would never admit it, but since that day two months ago, according to the marks on the wall and the occasional time the child manages to catch a glimpse of the calendar in the loo without being rushed out, the boy has actively been awaiting and hoping for another letter.

And, it seemed, today was that day he was waiting for.

Indeed, on the floor in the heap of bills, was that fine parchment that felt soft under your fingers sealed with that lovely wax crest and, once again, the same address.

 _Mr H. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

The child was quite excited, though he constrained himself from expressing his emotion. He carefully slid the letter midway into the stack with the others, and brought them to his uncle respectfully, or, well like a dog or a slave who was forced to do so.

It appears that Vernon does not possess the same ability of control however.

Rage filled his eyes, his nostrils flared and his fat trembled with his anger.

"BOY! WHERE DID YOU GET THIS LETTER!?"

"The doo-r U-ncle Verno-n."

What an amazing occurrence that the child was not interrupted.

"LIAR! JUST LIKE YOUR PARENTS. A LITTLE. LYING. FREAK!"

And, it was back to the cupboard for the boy.

* * *

 **Mid July, 1991**

This is where the chaos began. Right before the boy's birthday, as he learned from the mocking gifts like the crumpled tissue from last year he used to sop up his blood.

He was not sure if he was thrilled or devastated as the letters came in and the beatings increased.

Letters.

Everywhere.

They started coming daily through the door slot.

Then they multiplied, and so Vernon nailed the door slot shut.

So the letters came through the window.

So Vernon did the same again.

And then the chimney, and they kept getting delivered in odder and odder ways.

And Vernon, well, he was unable to stop it.

And he was angry.

So, when the letters were found inside the eggshells instead of the usual white and yolk, Vernon dragged his brood and wife and the boy away.

So there they were, in a two floor shack that crumbled every so often, so they all decided to stay on the bottom floor, regardless of the water seeping in from the tide.

And the letters.

Well, they stopped.

And then it was the boy's birthday.

* * *

 **July 30, 11:57, 1991**

The boy was doing his usual ritual of staying up, he had traced a birthday cake in the dirt of the floor, and he was keeping the time according to Dudley's watch.

And then the clock struck 12.

"Happy Birthday Boy!"

He whispered, his words rough from lack of use. He smiled slightly, his jaw hurting from the effort, and blew gently at the crudely drawn candles in the dirt.

And then he turned over and got ready to sleep.

But, just as he was closing his eyes, sleep taking over along with the nightmares,

The door crashed open.

Well, it fell over.

The boy woke with a start, along with the Dursleys, and they all turned to stare at the approaching shadowy figure, who was very large and muscular.

" 'ello 'arry!"

His voice however, was not nearly as intimidating as his figure. He sounded happy, and jolly, as if he didn't just find him inside a crumbling shack in the middle of a thunderstorm. He had a large brown beard, that could have rivaled Harry's hair for knots, and he had a large smile that brightened his entire face.

And he was staring straight at Dudley.

"Uhhhh…"

Dudley was quite articulate.

"Boy!"

Instead of the usual scream, it was a very harsh whisper. The boy looked up, his eyes looking downward as he learned to when listening to Vernon.

"Sir-"

" 'arry my boy!You are uhh… A bit larger than expected but still! Just as I hoped and you look…. Uhh…"

The boy was interrupted by the large man's ramblings, as he talked to "Harry", or as he knew him, Dudley.

"Boy!"

Vernon was now glaring at the boy and so he answered.

"Yes U-ncle Vern-on?"

"I'm 'AGRID, Keeper of..."

Hagrid continued his ramblings as Vernon spoke.

"You. Are. Harry."

Vernon was glaring at him as if he should have known this, and suddenly the dots connected.

 _I am Harry!_

 _Harry Potter!_

It was quite a revelation, regardless of what you think. The boy now had a name, he was almost like Dudley! But he was still a freak. But a freak with a name!

Vernon was still glaring at him.

Harry looked up confusingly

Vernon pointed his head to Hagrid.

Oh, I suppose I should speak up.

"Sir-r, uhh, I'm actually Har-ry."

It felt so odd to say the name, like it wasn't his own. His voice was very quiet, and he stuttered slightly. He was rather embarrassed.

 _Oh damn, he's probably going to take Dudley instead, He's going to realize I'm a freak..._

"A' 'arry my boy! I'm 'agrid…"

And he rambled on with the same introduction as previously.

"You are a bit thinner than I expected, and smaller, but all of you people types are small and thin… I mean except you two."

Petunia let out a gasp, and Vernon turned red in rage.

"But anyway! I came to take you to Diagon Alley! Silly me didn't realize your folks probably didn't know 'ow to get t'ere…"

And so he continued, Harry trying to find the right moment to speak up.

"Uh, sir, Diagon Alley? What's that?"

"Diagon Alley is the bestest best place for Wizard shopping!"

Harry let out a shudder at this word (wizard, not bestest), as if knowing that Vernon was going to beat him.

So he spoke up to explain to Hagrid that he shouldn't say that word because he would get in trouble.

"But, sir, wizards don't exist."

The words were said very meekly, as if trying to make it so Vernon wouldn't hear him utter the word.

"WIZARDS DON'T EXIST?!"

Harry cowered. He knew he shouldn't have said that word, he knew he would get in trouble, and now it was going to be Hagrid instead of Vernon.

Harry was afraid.

"But 'arry! You are a wizard! You're a wizard 'arry!"

Now, Harry was reasonable. Even though he never attended school, he managed to sneak books from Dudley's broken toy room when they were gone, and he never noticed they were missing, so now he knew how to read, he knew how to count, he knew the basics, and, well he knew wizards weren't real.

Vernon told him so.

His parents believed it so they died.

And he was beat if he believed it.

So he didn't.

But he didn't dare contradict the large angry man in front of him

"Of course sir."

"O' good, I was worried t'ere."

Harry was relieved he pleased him. And so he kept quiet, and continued to listen to his ramblings. Until-

"I broug't you a birt'day cake 'arry!"

Harry knew what a birthday cake was. The Dursleys brought one every year, well, one for every year Dudley lived. They always looked very good, but Harry didn't dare say anything about it as he knew he would get in trouble. But he did taste one once. Two years ago, when he was cleaning up, there was a bit of paste on the table cloth. When Harry was sure no one was watching, he picked it up and tried it. It was very good, very sweet.

Hagrid opened a white box with a large dent in the centre, as if someone placed something on the box that caused it to collapse inwards. He opened it up, and inside was a huge cake, about the size of Vernon's hand, covered in that pink paste. On it, in green paste, was written

HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY

It was far nicer than any of Dudley's cakes. And it was his.

Harry was very excited.

Now there were no forks, or spoons, or any of that sort of thing, but Harry was quite used to this so he carefully took a handful of the cake.

The cake itself was rather hard, and dry, but it was very tasty.

For Harry.

In reality it tasted like bread left out for too long that was beginning to change colour.

But Harry ate that when he was lucky, so he didn't know.

"Alrig't 'arry, Let's go to Diagon Alley!"

Harry looked up questioningly, his eyes showing his confusion in their emerald green depths.

"O'! I forgot!"

Hagrid's hand disappeared in the pocket of his brown coat, and, after a few moments of digging around and obviously shifting some very odd metal and wooden things that made Harry wonder how large his pockets were, he pulled out a letter identical to the countless ones received at Number 4 Privet Drive.

" 'ere you are 'arry."

Harry glanced up at Hagrid, his excitement evident in his emerald eyes. He refrained from looking at the Dursleys and seeing the disgust that would certainly be evident on their faces.

Instead, he admired the beautiful parchment once again, this time taking his time. He flipped the envelope, and on the back said

 _Mr H. Potter_

 _The Floor Next to The Couch_

 _Unknown_

 _Oceanview_

 _Madison_

He frowned, then flipped the envelope back over. He knew he had to open it, but he was sad to break the beautiful red wax crest. But he did, nonetheless.

Inside the envelope was the same lovely parchment, folded three times. He carefully unfolded it and smiled meekly at the delicate red cursive. And, he began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Hogwarts School of…?"

He glanced up at Hagrid, obviously confused.

"But of course 'arry! You do need an educa'ion!"

"So, Wizards are real?"

Harry was rather proud he managed to say the bad word without stuttering.

"Absolutely!"

Harry smiled slightly, though he still didn't fully believe it. He knew what a wizard was, it was in one of Dudley's books, and he knew the things done were impossible. But he kept quiet as he would not want to anger Hagrid.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells_ _(Grade 1)_

 _by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic_

 _by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory_

 _by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

 _by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

 _by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_

 _by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

 _by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

 _by Quentin Trimble_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Harry felt that it was too good to be true, the idea of having a proper chance at life, of receiving an education and going to school every day just like Dudley was overwhelming. And books! He would own books! And a wand… He wasn't sure what he would do with that however. He knew he couldn't do magic, he didn't even believe it existed! He dreaded the day that Hagrid would find out and send him back to the Dursleys.

"So 'arry… Diagon Alley?"

"Okay sir."  
Harry nodded slightly, the thunder storm had finally stopped so it was now just muddy. He was slightly afraid though, he knew bad things happened when a stranger took you away, Uncle Vernon would always tell him he should be, so of course he knew it would be bad. He hoped it was alright.

He looked up, Hagrid had pushed the door down yet again. He was standing patiently.

"Well come on boy!"

"Yes sir!"

"And say goodbye to your 'amily, would't want t'em worrying."

Harry froze up for a moment, he knew they were going to be angry that he was leaving for such a freakish reason. He did so nonetheless, but only to prevent Hagrid's anger.

"G-oodbye."

He turned but kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to witness the anger and disgust in their eyes. He knew that he was a freak, but it still hurt to see such strong evidence.

He heard a snort and then turned to follow Hagrid out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I am afraid that J. was not willing to give up her series and fortune, so I am afraid that my ownership of Harry Potter will have to wait for another day.

 **Author's Note:** Hello, Now I have to apologize, the amount of time it took for me to update is frankly ridiculous. I am afraid, regardless of my regret, that I am not going to set a positive update date. My life is rather insane, and I am continuously becoming distracted by The Secret History, and other fictions, and so I am unsure when I will continue to update.

I did want to think you two lovely people who reviewed, and I apologize for not getting back to you.

Secondly, I have made a decision on how I will write this fiction. I am not going to rewrite Harry's entire childhood, as much as some of you may want me to. I personally find fictions where his entire childhood is rewritten and told boring and repetitive, a thing that I am going to try very hard to not be in writing this fiction. For this reason, I want to warn you, the reader, to pay attention to dates and the likes so you are able to keep up on my constantly distracted and preoccupied mind. For this chapter, and the next few, I am going to introduce Harry to his classes, and then I will probably skip a large amount of his year or something of that sort.

 **Thank you, apologies, and, as usual, do please tell me if there are any spelling errors or recommendations that lay in the area of reason within my writing.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **September 1, 1991. Late morning**

That odd feeling of your stomach turning over, your heart rate increasing, your foot tapping, your leg trembling, it is rather displeasing but at the same time brilliant as nerves also come with excitement, a highly underrated feeling. This was where Harry was in his (current) mental state. Nerves and excitement, the odd feeling of an emotion different than fear, filled him and caused his stomach to make odd noises and his vision to blur, that is more than it does usually.

Harry was in his cupboard. He had just fed the brutes and cleaned the mess they left, and was now kneeling in the cramped space, hoping helplessly to not dirty the knees of his best pants, which were, in reality, quite abhorrent. He was waiting for Hagrid, the large man who had visited a month previously, to bring him to the train station and Hogwarts. Hagrid was kind enough to offer to bring Harry to the train station as his muggle, and distasteful, family would obviously not know the basis of how to get on the particular train to Hogwarts and so on. The time was now 9:40, Harry's nerves were still a quivering mess, when the door to his cupboard was opened (a shock for it to not be slammed as loudly as usual), to reveal none other than Vernon Dursley.

"Boy! Get out of the cupboard!"

These words confused Harry greatly as they were never said by Dursley before, it was only the opposite said. For this reason Harry sat there for a moment, still in slight shock that Vernon knew more than ten words, when he was pushed into action by his alert mind. He dashed out, unsure where to stand or move or how to do anything outside of the cupboard aside from that what he is told.

So he stood rather awkwardly in the hallway outside the door to his cupboard.

This was the moment when the house shook, almost as hard when compared to Vernon's yells, from a knock on the door. Vernon scoffed and turned to the telly once again, and Harry, unaccustomed to being permitted to be anywhere near the door, rushed forward to open it.

"'ARRY!"

Harry winced from that loud, boisterous noise that escaped the giant's lips.

"Do you have your items? Oooh I am so 'ited!"

Harry cringed slightly at the butchered words, but nodded and moved to follow Hagrid out the door.

"Say your goodbyes 'arry, you won't be seeing you dear 'amily for a good three months after all."

Harry nodded, not wanting to turn to his family but doing so nonetheless. His voice came out as a cracked whisper.

"G-good b-bye."

The boy cringed slightly at the patheticness of his voice, and quickly turned to Hagrid , not waiting for the biting response from the Dursley's to his farewells. And so, his new life away from the Dursleys began.

 **S….s**

 **Later that day**

Harry was shocked. He had never left the Dursley's home except for the instance in which they had tossed him into the car's trunk and drove to that crumbling two floor house by the ocean, and even then he couldn't see outside with the closed ceiling and cramped space. The many buildings and the different shapes and architectures shocked Harry, and as they neared the city the buildings grew higher and higher, until Harry was hurting his neck with bending backward to see the sky and the end of the buildings.

They had finally stopped outside the train station, a massive building made of tan and brown coloured bricks with a shining, red metallic roof that reflected the sunlight and burned your eyes. Hagrid stopped the bike directly in front of the building, and several passing cars honked at his bad parking, if it could be called such as it was basically in the street. Hagrid slid off the bike, and embarrassingly enough, picked up Harry by grasping his waist and pulling him upward and down on the ground like a child. Harry flushed, obviously embarrassed, and turned to follow Hagrid into the grand building in front of him.

Hagrid, however, instead of stepping into the open gate with that arched sign above proclaiming the station's name, ducked to the left of the building and turned the corner into an alley where no one could view them, unless they originally intended to do so. This greatly confused Harry, but he followed along nonetheless.

"Gav mah 'ah trunk now 'arry."

Hagrid's pathetic attempt at a whisper was spoken at in a slightly louder voice than an average human, and Harry rushed to obey. He put his delicate hands into his pocket, and meticulously pulled out the miniature trunk with the engravings H. J. P. in beautiful cursive, handing it to Hagrid rather than clinging to it as he wanted.

Hagrid then took his pink umbrella from his pocket, twirled it oddly, spoke a word that Harry was unable to interpret, and the trunk was suddenly growing into its actual size of three feet. Harry gasped, then immediately flushed when realizing he did so and quickly turned his face down in embarrassment.

Harry, expecting to leave, spun around and took hold of his trunk, when Hagrid interrupted.

"Now 'arry, remember' that it's 9 and three quarters, alright?"

Harry, at this moment, was rather confused. Why would Hagrid be reminding him, he would be taking him to the station after all.

Ah.

But he will not. Harry felt a brief flame of terror and fear at the idea of having to navigate through the massive and very new building himself, as well as interact with countless people. Harry had obviously had no experience talking and being around other people, the only experience he had was when Dudley and his friends would play "Catch the Freak", or with Vernon Dursley, which was barely an actual interaction, rather just commands being yelled or fists being connected with skin.

 _Idiot_. Harry scolded himself, shocked that he even had the idea that Hagrid would walk him in. He was becoming spoiled. Just because he has a name, doesn't make him less of a freak, in fact he is now more of a freak, with him supposedly being a wizard and going to a school for such.

And so, Harry simply nodded and looked toward the ground once again, before muttering a silent "Thank you," and rushing away to the massive black gate, the entrance to his new life.

S...s

Harry was terrified. Granted, he knew that there were many people, and the building was large, he did see all this with Hagrid. However, he now realized the significance that the friendly giant had on his emotions. Harry was now only an eleven year old child, who looked far younger, standing stuck in a crowd of people all rushing in different directions, women in suits muttering into their phones, two men smiling, a large man in a suit with dark glasses and an angry expression stomping through the crowd. And all of them were much taller than Harry, and none of them looked nearly as vulnerable as the poor child with his large green eyes and long, knotted hair.

Harry was afraid. He stood there, stopped in the centre of this chaos, his metal trolley that contained his trunk stood beside him and even that was up to his neck. He was stuck, unsure what to do, and his vision was suddenly blurring worse than usual, and now he could only see a foot in front of him instead of six. His heart felt heavy, his body trembled, he was suddenly overly conscious of his breathing. A dizzy spell shook his body further, and Harry was sure he would fall over, crumbling to the ground and be trampled by the crowd of people. This was how he felt when Vernon came home drunk, only at least then he had the comfort of the dark and a space he could call his own in the cupboard, here there were countless more people to judge him, to realize his freakiness, to laugh at him and beat him and and and and-

And Harry's stagnate body, his trembling hand still clutching the bar of his trolley, was dragged out of the crowd and toward the left, where the stream of people slowed and thinned so there was only Harry, a couple of girls on their phones and laughing on nonsense, and…

Harry lifted his eyes, observing the couple before him. There were two, both women, one who was currently holding his hand oddly and had her two centre fingers applying pressure at his wrist, the other who was kneeling beside her and digging through her leather purse as if looking for something.

"Shh, now take a breathe dear."

The voice was soft, and very humane. It came from the women kneeling besides the one who was holding his hand so oddly. Harry lifted his eyes, taking in the woman. She had shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, and it curled inward slightly at the edges. Her face was round, she had large cheeks and average sized lips, a petite nose and deep brown eyes. Her eyebrows were natural and had random hairs that ruined the shape, yet they still seemed sculpted, regardless of the lacking upkeep. She was wearing a white cable sweater over a brown skirt that reached below her knees, and knee high socks which had a slight bit of lace at the top. Her atmosphere was, overall, very natural and motherly, not that Harry would know what that would mean.

Harry nodded quickly, and took several deep breathes as directed to by the woman before him. When his breath finally evened, and his senses were renewed to their normal abilities, he observed the second woman who was kneeling in front of him.

She had just dropped his hand, and was now beginning to stand. She was, well, extremely tall.

Her legs seemed to just continue, and she must have been at least nine inches taller than the other woman. She had black hair that was arranged in tight curls and built up above her head, and was shaved neatly at the sides. She had extremely thick eyebrows, and a dark line above each eye causing her to seem intimidating. Her face was very narrow, and she had a small, slightly upturned nose and intensely clear blue eyes. She was dressed in a black button up, which was buttoned to the top, and had simple dark-coloured pants that clung to legs, making Harry wonder how she managed to squeeze into the fabric.

The woman's eyes suddenly made contact with Harry's, causing a deep flush to overtake his face and a slight wince claim his body. He immediately turned his eyes downward in an attempt to hide from these people and the sharp glare and judgement belonging to the blue eyed woman above him.

"Oh Francis! Don't you see that you are scaring him!"

The soft voice of the first woman scolded the tall one gently, if that is possible, and the other woman scowled in response.

"Well it's not my fault! Merely self defence Mariette, I mea-"

The deeper, yet still gentle voice was stopped by the woman's, or Mariette's, sharp glare.

"Apologies."

Francis, as Harry gathered from the Mariette's scolding, muttered it slightly, obviously embarrassed to have to do something as demeaning as apologizing in public.

It took Harry a moment to realize this interaction was about him, he felt as if he was only observing a painting of a sort. He flushed when he realized his lateness, and responded as quickly as possible.

"No, I am. I am unsure what came over me."

Harry was very proud that his voice did not tremble, in fact it was almost perfect, perhaps a bit quiet and on the meek side but only that.

"Oh dear, it's perfectly alright. Francis is a skilled medic, she immediately saw the signs of a pan- Oomph!"

Mariette was interrupted by a rude shove from Francis, and she flushed and quickly recovered.

"I mean, we immediately knew something was wrong and quickly came over. Now, you must need some chocolate, chocolate fixes everything."

Harry was rather confused, who were these people and why would they help him? He was only a boy. And chocolate? The word sounded interesting and smooth on his tongue, and he felt a wave of curiosity overcame him.

"Chocolate?"

The question was met with the shocked and slightly enraged face of Mariette, who immediately began to stutter out incoherent words.

"Y-ou, bu-t Choc-la-"

"Oh do hush Mariette, you are given the boy a fright!"

Francis stopped Mariette's odd ramblings and noises, and quickly kneeled down in front of Harry, looking directly into his eyes. She smiled slightly, as if exchanging a secret with Harry or telling him some good news.

"I apologize. Mariette works as a confectioner, she is rather, uhh, strong in her… beliefs. "

Mariette was indeed still stuttering behind Francis, her mouth hanging open blankly.

"It is alright, I understand."

Harry whispered it gently, as Francis was right in front of him. His answer caused a grin to split Francis' face, and she immediately turned to Mariette, who seemed to have recovered her shock and so immediately tossed a chocolate bar, which was conveniently enough in her purse, to Francis.

Francis peeled back the foil wrapper, and split off four rectangular pieces from the shape, handing it to Harry expectantly. Harry immediately took it into his hands and, gathering he was supposed to eat it, placed one of the squares on his mouth.

Immediately his face brightened and he felt a thousand times better. Mariette and Francis were greeted with Harry's soft smile and flushed cheeks as he enjoyed the refreshing treat that Mariette felt so strongly about.

Francis spun around, grinning and hit her hand to Mariette's ready one. Both were smiling as if something far more important happened then Harry eating a chocolate square.

"Thank you."

Harry's voice broke their interaction, and he smiled gently up at them in his renewed confidence.

"Of course dear! Now, I have a few more bars I can spare you, but I believe that first we should find you parents."

Harry's face immediately fell, he knew they would leave him when they heard that his parents were dead and he, a freak.

"Th-hey aren't here right now."

Harry's stutter was also brought back it seems.

Mariette and Francis immediately sensed Harry's discomfort and Mariette knelt down in front of him.

"Do you have any family or friends you came with then?"

"N-no... "

Mariette frowned, unsure what to do.

"Oh! But I am supposed to go to Platform 9 and three quarters!"

Harry was unsure why he spoke in such a rush, but he disliked seeing such a frown on Mariette's face and that odd darkening of the eyes in Francis', regardless of him just meeting them.

"Well, I am unsure on where Platform 9 and three quarters is, but we can take you to Platform 9 and ten! How about that?"

Harry's face fell slightly at the fact that they did not know of Harry's destination, but Harry, deciding that someplace is better than no place, nodded.

"Thank you, that would be most appreciated."

"Lovely!"

Mariette stood, a large smile filling her face and causing her cheeks to rise. She reached out a hand toward Harry, who was still kneeling on the ground, and looked at him expectantly.

"Well come on then!"

Harry flushed and nodded quickly, realizing he was supposed to take her hand. He did so and stood up quickly, as to not be an inconvenience. As he was about to let go of her hand, she seemed to tighten it slightly in an almost protective manner. Francis took Harry's trolley in one hand, which seemed to be very light for her, and then took Mariette's second hand in her other.

"Why, we seem like a family!"

Francis seemed slightly embarrassed at this proclamation, but smiled gently at Mariette anyway.

"Indeed."

And so they continued on through the confusing crowd and halls, only this time Harry was not afraid as he was being helped along so carefully.

 **S...s**

Harry and the two women stopped in front to the sign that jutted out above their heads that said, in perfect cursive,

Platform 9

Harry immediately felt a sense of dread. He looked down the hall and only saw that the next sign was for Platform 10, and not 9 ¾. He wondered if, perhaps, this was all a set up by the Dursleys in order to properly punish him. Maybe they wanted to give him a sense of hope, then crush it and bring him back to the cupboard.

Francis and Mariette must have realized his disappointment, and so Mariette immediately attempted to comfort him.

"Well, we may as well walk down here to the point where it 9 ¾ could be! There are four spaces in between each platform after all!"

Mariette forced a smile on her face in order to make Harry feel better, and Harry tried to turn his lips up in reassurance.

"Alright… Thank you."

"But of course!"

Harry smiled and flushed slightly, and looked toward the ground again to hide his emotions.

So the three walked forward into the third space, and, well, they stood there, unsure what to do. Mariette and Francis were not going to leave Harry, he was only a boy afterall, and Harry made no sign of leaving.

And so, they did the only thing they could.

They sat against the wall and Mariette passed out her chocolate bars, and so they ate their chocolate and leaned up against the wall which would be the entrance to Platform 9 ¾.

When they were finishing their second bar each, and the time was nearing 10:50, a family approached. They all had matching flaming red hair, and they all had similar, tattered clothing, that is from I, the narrator's eyes, and perhaps Mariette's and Francis' as well. From Harry's eyes, they were wearing the finest clothing he had ever seen, that is outside of this day.

"Why, hello! Are you three going to catch the train at 9 ¾?"

Harry was shocked when the oldest looking redhead, who had slight wrinkles from smiling decorating her face, mentioned Harry's destination.

"Indeed, Are you aware of a way to get to such a platform?"

Francis spoke for Harry, thankfully, as he felt that he may fall over in excitement and nerves.

"But of course!"

A boy who was identical to the one standing beside him said.

"All you need to do-"

The second boy who was identical the the first boy said.

"-is walk in-"

The first boy continued.

"-the wall!"

Now this was obviously very disconcerting to Harry, as he knew that you do not simply walk into walls and hope to not be injured. Walking into walls is sure to cause an injury of some sort.

"Now boys, why don't you go first as the poor dear is obviously rather confused."

The older women, who Harry guessed must be their mum, scolded the boys lightly.

And so, the matching boys ran into the walls, their trolleys with their worn trunks inside pushed in front of them.

Mariette and Francis immediately flinched as the trolley came in contact with the wall, but then, somehow, it went through, and the boys had vanished.

"There you are dear! Now, it's important that you feel confident for it to work, that is the only why it will work after all."

Harry nodded, and quickly gestured for the other redheads to walk into the wall before him.

The woman smiled and nodded slightly, luckily understanding Harry, and so the rest of her two children dashed in as Harry turned to talk with Mariette and Francis for the final time.

"Thank y-"

Harry was interrupted when they both hugged him tightly.

"Now dear, make sure you take and eat these chocolates if something like this morning happens-"

A dozen chocolate bars were immediately thrusted into Harry's arms.

"-and do be careful! I do not know where you are going but if you need a thing-"

Francis had a scrap of paper which she was writing on with a pen against the wall.

"Call us!"

The paper that Francis was writing on was immediately given to Harry, and he smiled and his eyes suddenly felt heavy and moist.

"Thank you… I don't know what I would have done without your help."

Francis immediately stole Harry from Mariette's arms, hugging him tightly against her chest.

"Of course! Now do call us! Do you have a phone?"

"N-no…"

"Well, someone must have one where you are going, regardless of how odd your destination may be. Now, if you ever need anything at all, whether it be a good meal, a chocolate bar, or a place to spend the night, feel free to call us and we will willingly give!"

Harry was smiling far too wide, his cheeks were beginning to ache, while at the same time he tried to contain his tears. He felt rather overwhelmed by how kind these strangers were.

"Thank you."

"Oh dear! Now, what is your name?"

"H-harry Potter."

This earned a gasp from the red haired woman behind him, and Francis immediately turned to give her her terrifying glare, and so the redhead immediately quieted.

"A pleasure, Harry."

Francis took Harry's hand in hers, and shook gently.

"Now, if you need anything, anything at all, please call. We would love to see you again."

Harry nodded, a tear finally escaping down his flushed cheeks, and then, for the final time said.

"Thank you. For everything. I hope to see you again."

"As do we, Harry."

Mariette was also crying at this time, and Francis was holding her hand comfortingly.

And so, Harry turned around, and ran into the wall, and, rather than coming into contact with the hard brick which would have resulted in a great deal of pain, he went right through into the World of Magic.

 **S...s**

 **September 1, 10:56**

Stepping onto 9 ¾ was perhaps the most shocking experience Harry had went through.

The world in front of him was identical to the previous, only here there was a shiny red train which puffed grey smoke and had, engraved on the side,

Hogwarts Express

There were people on the platform as well, countless people. The majority seemed to be children of all ages, ranging from Harry's age to around eighteen. There were adults as well, whispering good byes to their children and hugging them intimately. Harry felt a slight twinge of envy, which he quickly pushed away from his mind in an attempt to ignore it. Harry then made his way to the train, and shuffled up to the closest entrance. He stepped into the black framed opening, carefully avoiding the gap between the platform and train, and made his way into the train.

The inside of the train was split into two sides, each having compartments in which there were two rows benches neatly cushioned with a red material, and a metal rack above head. Each compartment had a simple glass sliding door, and between the compartments that stretched down the train, was a narrow space for walking.

And so, Harry made his silent way down the aisle, glancing into each compartment, searching for one that was empty or at least had someone quiet inside. But all of the compartments seemed to be filled with loud voices, and unstoppable laughter, or anything of the like.

The train was quite long though, and so Harry continued.

Harry was suddenly stopped about halfway down the train by one of the redheads from earlier that day, rushing out of a compartment on the left, and nearly colliding with him. He seemed to be the shortest of the bunch, and had an oddly square and piggish nose, a round face dusted with freckles, and a brown smear on his left cheek. He was laughing at something a person from behind him had said, and was paying no attention to where he was going.

And so he collided with Harry.

"Oi! Watch where yah going!"

Harry immediately felt his heart rate miss a beat, and begin to increase. He breathed heavily, attempting to stay in control. Sudden thoughts of the cupboard, and Vernon coming home on a drunk night, and that feeling of being almost trampled in a crowd- God, why couldn't they lower their voices!

Of course, as Harry was trying to reinvigorate his breathing and bring his heartrate down to the normal speed, he was standing there, not answering or reacting to the annoying redhead.

"Bloody hell! Move! I need to get out!"

Harry's attempt to calm himself were failing.

"Why is your hair so long! You look like a bloody girl!"

On and on and on. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

"MOVE!"

And the redhead's first was suddenly being raised and was about to collide with Harry's face, when the force of air that came with his colliding fist caused Harry's hair to scatter, and his bangs to brush away from his forehead, revealing Harry's lightning shaped scar to the world.

Chaos.

The fist was going to fast to stop it, and so Harry's lithe body was immediately thrown backward by the force, which caused him to collide with the person behind him. Harry felt rather queasy, the lack of breathe, his irregular heartbeat, and the numbing pain from his face was all working together for him to wonder if it would be so bad for him to faint.

As these thoughts ran through Harry's mind, several others had come out of their compartments to see him.

"Harry Potter!"

"My God Ron, help him!"

"I-i I didn't mean to! He, it is unexpected! Reflex! Uh-"

"Oh dear, is he alright?"

"Is that his scar?"

"Wow, let me see!"

On and on and on and on. Constant voices. Hands reaching for Harry's face, move his hair, touch his scar. Harry was terrified, he couldn't see, dizziness, pain, breathe, god it was a mess.

Harry had forgotten that he was, well, laying on a person. And the person decided to make himself known at this moment.

"SILENCE!"

Well, that had the desired effect. The train aisle was suddenly filled with perfect silence, not even that lost frog would dare croak.

"Thank you. Now, I would advise you to run back to your compartment unless you want to have the experience of being faced with the wrath of our dear Potions Professor, The famous Severus Snape, the one you will be stuck with for the next seven years. And, well, he is not very forgiving. As I'm sure you all know."

The effect was immediate. Never had a group of children moved so fast. In barely a second, the aisle was silent and deserted, as was the boy's intention.

The boy carefully shifted, moving Harry slightly so he leaned against the compartment door on the left.

"Hello, I am Draco Malfoy. Now, do you happen to have any chocolate on hand?"

Harry was unable to make out the boy's face or appearance in his current dizzy state, but his voice was almost arrogant in its accent and perfect punctuation, yet still soft as if to not confuse Harry further.

Harry nodded, and gestured to the old backpack besides him desperately.

Draco seemed to understand, and immediately turned to the backpack, raising his eyebrows in confusion, but eventually figured out how to unzip the pocket and take out a chocolate bar, with which he handed to Harry. Harry gulped down the chocolate, savoring the taste, when his vision began to come back and his breathe even.

The boy kneeled in front of him had white blonde hair, stormy grey eyes, a long narrow noise, and small lips. His face shape was average, not too narrow, but not nearly soft or round enough to be considered so. He had on an odd dress like outfit, only open, it seemed almost like a cape in its flowiness. Underneath, he was wearing a simple blue button down and black slacks. He seemed very… posh.

"Well, come on."

Definitely arrogant. His voice and expression just oozed the feeling of superiority and class. It was rather impressive.

Harry made his way up, managing to stand. He scowled lightly when he realized Draco was about six inches taller than him, as did everyone on the train seem to be.

Draco turned around and began to walk back towards a compartment further down the train, obviously expecting Harry to follow him. And so, Harry rushed to keep up with Draco's obnoxiously long strides, feeling slightly like a dog following its owner. Well, if he was a dog he would surely have his tail between his legs because God, his embarrassment was terrible.

Draco stopped suddenly at a compartment, causing Harry to nearly collide with him. Draco turned to open the compartment door, still ignoring Harry. Inside, there were four people, all of which were in as nice clothing as Draco's. There was a girl, who he soon learned to be named Daphne. She had long blonde hair arranged in tight curls. Her face was rather boring, all one tone except the rosiness of her cheeks. She had a small nose, average lips, average brown eyes.

The boy beside her was an African American, he had large full lips, a small rounded nose, and large dark, brown eyes. The second girl was had broad shoulders, a thin nose, large, hazel eyes, thick black hair that erupted in curls along her shoulders. She had a short, curvy frame, and seemed to be Latina. The final two in the compartment were almost identical- both had blue eyes, buzzcuts, round stomachs and a generally round frame. Thick noses with large nostrils, small eyes, and thin lips decorated there round faces. They immediately shifted to the side to make room for Draco, as if they were his underlings of a sort.

"Potter, this is Daphne, Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, then slid into the seat beside Daphne, which was also closest to the door.

"So Potter, where have you been? I have never seen you among the… Higher society."

Harry frowned, confused by the question.

"I-i have been-n living with my f-fami-ly."

That was much harder to say then Harry thought it would be. Harry looked up to Draco, wondering what his expression would be in response to this statement.

Draco looked… annoyed. As if Harry should be saying something in particular but isn't.

"Yes Potter, but… what are their… Blood types?"

Harry was only furtherly confused.

"Bloodtypes?"

The others in the compartment were staring at him with disbelief now, as if he should know something but doesn't.

"Yes Potter. Are they mudbloods, half bloods, or purebloods?"

Harry was only more confused.

"I'-i'm sorr-ry…"

Harry was confused, and Draco seemed to be getting more and more annoyed.

"What is your family's magical ancestry?"

Harry paused, then finally seemed to understand. His face brightened, and the others in the compartment relaxed slightly at his realization.

"Oh! I'm sorry I was confused. They can't do magic."

And the bomb dropped. The others in the compartment seemed to be shocked, their eyes bulged and a look of distaste overcame their features. Some even glared at Draco, as if this was his fault.

"You mean, you are a mudblood?"

Blaise covered his gasp, or attempted to.

"W-hat is a mudblood..?"

Harry was nervous now, they all seemed to think he was a freak. Was he also freakish in the wizarding world?

"A mudblood has two muggle parents, and no magical parents."

Draco looked at him expectantly.

"Oh… My parents died in a car crash, I am unsure of their… magical abilities."

The others in the compartment didn't bother to try to hide their gasps at this point, their expressions were also that of blunt shock.

"You are Harry Potter are you not?"

Draco was very annoyed now, and his tone of voice was slow as if he was talking to a child. Harry's face flushed, he hated how embarrassed he felt.

"yY-yes."

"So your parents are Lily and James Potter, are they not?"

Harry flushed, God he hated this.

"I-i… I don't know."

Gasps once again. Harry looked at the floor in shame and embarrassment, they all knew of how freakish he was, his parents were freaks, he was a freak, God what was he thinking coming to this school, he should have stayed with the Dursleys, at lea-

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open to reveal a black girl with dark hair that rumbled down her shoulders. Her eyes were large and brown, she had a small nose and full lips. She were a floral button up with a simple tan sweater over it, and simple black pants. Her expression currently was one of slight anger, perhaps distaste.

"Ah HAH!"

Her voice was loud, but not unpleasantly so. She blushed slightly when she realized how loud she said that

"Uh.. Harry… and… Others….Uhh… Hello… FROGs!"

Her face was very red now, and her words were cluttered.

"Frogs! Yes, have any of you seen a frog?"

She leaned in slightly after the second word. She seemed slightly intoxicated. The others in the compartment just stared at her blankly, obviously confused by her behavior.

"Well!"

A slight stumble.

"Would any of you like to help me find a uhh… FROG!"

The last bit was said in a scream as a frog jumped down from the ceiling rack, directly in front of Daphne who let out an extremely loud screech. The frog then leaped out of the compartment and into the aisle.

"Well! Good bye I suppose!"

She was then about to turn and leave when Harry, in his great discomfort, realized this was his chance to escape.

"Wait!"

Well, that was a bit louder than he meant to. His face was flaming now.

"C-could I come… A-as well?"

He looked up at the taller, and seemingly older girl at the last bit, hoping that she doesn't realize his freakish nature.

"But of course! I'm looking for a frog. It belongs to Neville, the poor dear is terrified he had lost it."

Harry nodded, as if able to keep up on her words.

"Ah! And I am Hermione, Hermione Granger. It is a pleasure to meet you. And I do know you are Harry, why, I read all about you! And combined with this morning's commotion, why, well, that must have been horrid. I'm terribly sorry I couldn't help."

"Oh, it's alright. I was just… embarrassed."

Hermione smiled at Harry, causing Harry's embarrassment to diminish and his smile to grow.

"Thank you."

Harry muttered this, almost hoping Hermione wouldn't hear.

"What for?"

"Everything."

"Why, I haven't done a thing yet! Though, if it relieves your mindset, You are welcome."

And so Hermione swung around and burst through the door and back into the hall, and Harry had no choice but to follow.

And so, Harry's life at, or almost to, Hogwarts began.

 **NOTE**

So there may be some confusion on why Draco was asking Harry those questions on blood purity when it is a well known fact that he is a half blood, but Draco and the others were wondering what Harry's stance was on blood purity, thus the questions.

I also just had to have a black Hermione, I know it may go against the original books and so on, but I find it just fit for this fiction. I also apologize if she seems more hyper than would be normal, but I will think of an excuse in the next chapters.


End file.
